Behind These Hazel Eyes
by QuidditchGirl30
Summary: Rose has never really liked her father, though she doesn't know why. She always preferred her Uncle Harry, who is the only one that can make her mother smile. To discover these secrets, she looks to the one thing that gives her answers: her eyes. HHR/SR


Behind These Hazel Eyes

Summer had passed so quickly, and yet the prospect of returning to school filled the air with excitement and yearning. September that year was unnaturally warm, with the humidity of August still hovering in the air, and the bright sun casting an orange glow on everything it touched. Frantic purchases and sorrowful packing consumed the last week in August, and the panicked mindset that filled every parent's mind still lingered even as the first of September, at ten thirty in the morning, arrived.

A small family made their way up the stairs of King's Cross station, having just 'parked' their car (in truth, the actual parking was full of tires swerving and loud horns beeping, but the driver was too shaken to admit that). The mother led the way, holding her daughter's trunk and checking her wristwatch every five seconds, just to make sure they would miss not the train. Her husband followed her, struggling with the weight of a trunk, a bag full of books, and a birdcage. Their children lingered behind: one whistling and breaking off a piece of candy, which looked suspiciously like a product from his uncle's shop, and the other unconsciously patting her curly hair down, her pile of books clutched in her hands.

Rose Weasley fingered the top book. _Tales of the Beatle and the Bard._ She sighed and cast a glance at her mother, who was hissing angrily at them to hurry along. Her mother had given her the book on her eleventh birthday, right after she had received her letter. She had been told of her parent's adventures from her mother's perspective, even though she had already heard it loads of times. She kept the book with her always: always in her drawer at home, always in her bag at school, always under her pillow at night. It gave her comfort when her mother couldn't, which sadly seemed to be often. The Ministry was quite demanding, or so she was told.

Hugo had caught up with her father, who turned around with an encouraging smile. "C'mon, Rosie. We're nearly at platform nine."

Rose resisted the urge to sigh loudly. However, she sped up slightly, not wanting her mother to get involved. Her father nodded and turned back around, fueling her rebellious side. She didn't dislike her father, he just was just a tosser. He ate like a pig, he always found a way to skip work, he argued with her mother constantly, and all he talked about was Quidditch. He was a decent man, always funny and a good father, she just didn't understand why her mother chose him.

"Hurry _up, _Ronald!" Her mother barked before disappearing through the barrier.

Ron Weasley heaved a sigh and pushed both Rose and Hugo before him. Rose passed through the barrier, and smiled in wonder. In her five years at Hogwarts, her arrival at the Hogwart's Express never tired in amazement. Families bustled past her, appearing and disappearing in the dense steam. She spotted her mother loading her trunk onto the train, and ran up to her.

"Mum, we have nearly fifteen minutes," Rose reasoned carefully, already knowing her mother's temper.

"Oh, _honestly, _Rose. I wanted to be here earlier, but _no_, your father simply _had_ to test that bloody car. I'm going to hex that blasted thing into the next century."

"Yeah, I think Hugo's still a bit green."

Hermione Granger-Weasley stepped back from the train and smiled weakly. "Yes, well, hopefully that'll dissipate before your next voyage. Sorry about my temper. You know I'm going to miss you, Rosie."

Rose enveloped her mother into a hug, disturbed to find how frail she was. "Love you, Mum. Promise me you'll write."

"Of course. Keep up with your studies."

"Mum," Rose scolded, before snorting. She pulled away and raised her eyebrows. "I owled all of my professors in the beginning of August. I have completed almost all of my assignments for September. You honestly don't have to worry."

Hermione kissed her daughter's forehead. "That's my girl."

Rose felt a hand on her shoulder. "We all settled in?" Ron asked cheerfully. "'Mione, I have to be off on the hour, Shacklebolt flooed me about it this morning."

Hermione draped an arm around Hugo. "What for?"

"Dunno. But do you mind taking the car back home?"

Rose could almost see the flames leap into her mother's eyes. She suppressed a laugh at her father's stupidity. These were the times when she truly wondered how she married him. Every time he said something like this, her mother would snap back with a witty retort, and they would be off on another shouting match. Lately, however, it seemed that her mother grew weary of the arguments. She would simply agree with him. And that is exactly what she did.

Her tense form seemed to deflate. "Of course, Ron."

Rose and Hugo exchanged a glance. _No!_ Rose wanted to cry. Hermione worked at the Ministry also, and Rose knew that she was taking just as much time off at work. Rose also knew that her mother worked twice as hard as anyone, and she didn't deserve to waste time on an old, beat up Ford Angela. Hugo also shared her thoughts, who was looking up at his mother, worry in his eyes.

"Brilliant. Ah, Neville!" Ron traipsed over to greet the Longbottom family, leaving his broken one.

Hermione turned to her children and instantly frowned. "What is it? Oh, you two will have a brilliant time, really. My third year and my prefect," she sniveled in mock sadness. "I am quite proud."

Hugo laughed, but shook his head. "No, Mum. As much as we love you and dad, that's not what's bothering us."

"Then what is it?"

"Er…well…"

Hermione pursed her lips and frowned. "Rose?"

Rose cast an alarmed glare at her brother. "Erm, well, Mum…Hugo and I, well…" She took a deep breath. "It's nothing really, just a rather trifle concern we have. It can wait until Christmas--"

"Rose."

"Honestly! Hugo and I were just saying how we shouldn't even bother voicing it at all--"

"Rose."

"Yeah?"

"Out with it."

Rose closed her eyes, defeated. "We just want to see you happy again, Mum."

Hermione's eyes widened, and her mouth opened in protest, but was abruptly cut off by a loud yell.

"Weasleys!"

Rose and Hugo's frowns dissolved into smiles as they whipped around. "Potters!"

Lily and Albus Severus emerged from the mist first, their arms wide and inviting. Rose reached Albus first, her classmate and best mate, and drew him into a bone-crushing hug.

"Albus Severus! Why haven't you owled me? I sent you your schoolwork nearly a _week_ ago! There is no excuse!"

Albus laughed as he pulled away and shook Hugo's hand. "Rosie, relax or you'll go mental. I received your rather _large_ amount of work, and I've….started it."

Her eyebrows rose. "Started?"

"Erm, yeah."

"Honestly!" she huffed, hugging Lily.

"Hullo, Rosie! Congratulations on prefect! There really was no other choice."

Rose giggled. "Thanks, Lilypad. And congratulations on your exams…I heard you did brilliant for a third year."

Lily shrugged. "Yea, I s'pose. But not as good as prefect! Now you can catch all those nasty Slytherins!"

Her breath caught, and a flash of blonde, almost white hair passed before her eyes. She closed her eyes and shook her head, forcing the playful smirk from her mind. "Uh, yep. Definitely."

"Hugo Weasley! You're growing as tall as your father!" a voice cried out. Harry and Ginny Potter stepped behind Lily and Albus. Their oldest, James, gave a slight wave before ducking onto the train.

Hugo rushed over to Harry, leaving Ginny with the kids. She turned to Rose, and gave her a cool kiss on the cheek.

"Good to see you, Rose," she stated automatically before joining Ron with the Longbottoms. Rose frowned slightly. Ginny Potter was the Quidditch writer of the _Daily Prophet, _and always seemed aloof with Rose. Hermione reasoned that she worked long hours and was always tired, but _no one_ worked longer than her mother. And she wasn't grumpy, was she? Well, most of the time, anyways.

Rose turned to her uncle, who was standing expectantly before her. "Uncle Harry!" she cried, rushing into his arms.

"There's my rosebud." He twirled her around, sending her into a fit of giggles. No matter how angry or tired she was, her uncle was always able to make her smile.

She pulled back excitedly. "Oh, you'll _never_ guess what I discovered when looking at my Ancient Runes book, I--"

He laughed heartily and draped his arm across her shoulders. "Rosebud, you of all people know my hatred of Ancient Runes."

"Further proof that people never change."

His smile dimmed slightly, and he straightened. "Hermione."

Her mother appeared at Rose's side. "Harry Potter. The Man Who Doesn't Return Letters."

Rose giggled and Harry squeezed her shoulder. "Hermione, I'll have you know that I have been working steadily the past few days, which is why I haven't been able to return your letters. That should earn me points, shouldn't it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth curved upward. "If that is what you decree, then I suppose."

He grinned. "Brilliant." He quickly bent down and pecked her cheek, lingering a bit too long in Rose's mind. However, he pulled back and smiled easily. Rose's eyes narrowed as she looked between her mother and her uncle. She leaned past him, only to see that, to no surprise, Ginny's back was turned.

Her mother lowered her eyes and cleared her throat. "So, how is the Auror work, then?"

"You know, boring one moment, thrilling the next. How is Law Enforcement? Oh, always boring, right?"

Rose expected to see her mother tense and snap at him, but her stern face broke into a smile. "Funny, Potter."

Rose gaped at her mother, and was even more stunned when Harry drew her into a hug with his free arm. There they were: Harry, Hermione, and Rose huddled together in the middle of the platform. Rose couldn't help but feel that she was doing something wrong, but what was it? At the same time, however, a deep contentment spread through her, and she simply rested her head against his shoulder. A familiar, but forbidden thought entered her head. Why didn't her mother marry--?

The whistle sounded, signaling five minutes to departure. The trio sprung apart, the two elders flushed and stumbling over words. Oddly, no one seemed to have noticed. The Potter and Weasley clans clumped together in final farewells. Rose was passed between the adults, her thoughts still consumed by the meaningful look she had caught between her mother and uncle. She reached Harry last, who once again swept her into a bear hug.

"Take care of yourself, Rosebud."

"I will. I'm prefect now, remember?"

He winked at her. "That hardly stopped your mother, did it? But, with this responsibility, I need you to look after Lily and Hugo. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course, Uncle Harry. And I'll still look after James, though I highly doubt he'll listen to me anymore."

Harry stood and tugged on a curl. "You'll be surprised. See you at Christmas, then?"

With a nod, Rose boarded the train. Most of the compartments were either full, or in the process of filling. She quickly squeezed past a group of terrified first years and was able to catch an unoccupied compartment at the end of the car. She slid the door closed behind her and collapsed onto the seat. All that had passed that morning was racing through her head. How was her uncle able to make her mother smile in an instant, and her father unable to in a matter of months?

Her thoughts were abruptly cut off as the door slid open. "Ah, if it isn't Weasel-bee. How'd you snag a compartment alone? Everyone too disgusted to sit near you?"

"How'd you snag that name, Malfoy? Was your mother reading her horoscope when she gave birth to you?"

Scorpius Malfoy narrowed his eyes, his argument lost. Before he could reply, a pudgy boy stuck his head in. "Was your mother sleeping around before she gave birth to you?"

Rose stood, her wand out and pointed. "Do you want to repeat that, Goyle?" she asked in a low tone.

Scorpius' eyes were wide in alarm, but Goyle smirked. "How is it that widdle Hugo looks exactly like his joke of a father, and yet you look nothing like him?"

Scorpius pushed him out of the way. "Shove off, Goyle. You don't get to torture her, I do. Go find us a seat." Once he left, Scorpius turned and rushed in. "He's full of rubbish, Freckles. Don't listen to him."

Rose, however, had listened to him completely. She lowered her wand and turned to the window, confusion in her features. Her uncle was back at Ginny's side, though barely touching her. Her father had his arm draped around her mother's waist, and all traces of her smile were gone. Rose felt a warm hand on her arm.

"What if he is right, Scorpius? I _do_ look nothing like my father."

"Hey," he urged, tugging on her arm. "Don't ever listen to a Slytherin. They're full of rubbish."

She smiled wryly. "You're a Slytherin. Why should I listen to you, then?"

He shrugged, and then flashed her a disarming grin. "Because you know me, and I know you. S'all there really is to say."

They gazed at each other for a long moment, and Rose was _very_ aware of his warm hand. A loud bang hit the wall beside them, and he released her arm. He cleared his throat and retreated to the door.

"Anyways, enjoy your compartment alone, Freckles. As much as it is amusing to me to see you hated by your peers, I know your time in solitude won't last. I see your cousin approaching as we speak. I know we'll have a rather interesting year, won't we? See you around, unfortunately."

Rose smiled to her self and nodded, amused at his dramatics. "Of course, Malfoy."

She resumed her seat and looked out at the rolling hills. "Freckles?" he askedm timidly.

Rose turned to him. "Yes?"

"I missed you."

He instantly disappeared, leaving her blushing and flustered. However, her pounding heart did not distract her from Goyle's words. Her companions entered one by one, Hugo being one of them. She studied him: strawberry, curly hair, ginger freckles, blue eyes. All of the traits of her parents. She turned to her reflection in the window. She had brown, unruly hair and hazel eyes. Traits from her mother. But where was her father? She had no traces of ginger hair, and no traces of blue in her eyes. What if Ron was not her father? What if Goyle was actually telling the truth? But how was that possible? Who would her father be, then? She widened her eyes slightly, hoping the colors would give her an answer. They did answer. It was not one she had expected or one she entirely disliked. Just the same, her heart seemed to swell and sink at the same time.

The two colors in her hazel eyes were chocolate brown and emerald green.

A/N: Wow. This plot bunny hit me _hard_. I was simply in the car this morning when it hit me. I don't have time to write this!!!I know I know, you all hate me for not updating JIC. Sorry, I am writing my own novel, btw. That is a _tad _time consuming. I hope you like this, and I'm sorry if Rose comes off a bit cold, but that's just because that's my mood at the moment. I have no idea if I'll continue this, since it seems to do well as a one-shot, but we'll wait and see, won't we? =] And sorry if not all of my stuff is not accurate. I haven't picked up a HP book since Deathly Hallows. A sin, I know.

Glad to be back,

QuidditchGirl30


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